He will say who it was. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone. Did she suppose him a possible pretender to her daughter’s hand? The girl—Dorothée, if memory served—was clearly marriageable, but he imagined most of these unhappy exiles were all but penniless. "Is your person in danger?" "Not from my creditors," replied Wood, significantly. He liked to draw her in, and she did her best to talk. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods.
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